Final Passage Home

I was about to eat a chicken salad sandwich and have yet another Coke® for the evening when the phone rang. I wanted to ignore it. It was probably the ER and it was my day off work. I wanted to relax and watch a new video I had just bought and was looking forward to seeing. Thinking I would let the answering machine grab the call, I sat down to eat and watch a little TV.

Unable to ignore the continuous ringing, I answered the phone. Immediately my Dad’s voice began to slowly become audible through my phone line. He was searching for words for some reason and I recognized the effort. I had heard him do this before. Something was wrong and I could hear the distinct roar of hesitation as he began to gather the words to tell me why he had called. He said, “Your Aunt Ruby is sick and her doctors aren’t sure what it is.” After a short pause, he added, with hesitation,” she’s in the hospital.” He explained that her doctors thought something was wrong with her kidneys. She had been sick for quite a while with various problems and no-one had been able to understand what was wrong.  There was a long deafening silence as the meaning of my father’s words soaked into my consciousness and the uncertainty of those same words surrounded my Dad.

I knew, and sensed...it was cancer. With the phone receiver in hand, I remained quiet and let him talk. He talked about her having been sick over the last several months and not knowing why and he was worried. His words were reaching me as I heard what he was saying to me but I also heard him searching me for answers and I had none. For a few moments I fell silent to my own thoughts and fears. I couldn’t share them now. Almost instinctively, I stopped him mid-thought. “Daddy,” I said. “I’m on my way to her, I’ll leave on the first flight out in the morning.” He needed to hear that.

The bond that connected father to daughter went unspoken. This man, whom I had looked upon the entirety of my life and had been my life long hero, now needed me. There would be no hesitation.

Over the next few hours I readied myself to fly down and thus prepare myself to be at my Aunt’s bedside. I couldn’t seem to prevent the flow of memories that immediately began to surge from my brain to my heart. This woman, my Aunt, is such an incredible woman. I could already feel the rumblings of pain begin to seep into my consciousness. The idea began to emerge that my family may be about to lose this special woman that I often referred to as “Mom.” Most of her nieces and nephews referred to  her as Mom on many occasions. She was such a vital part of who all of us turned out to be. I had to remain focused. I had to find another time to embrace my own feelings of sadness and this was not the time.